Rebuilding The Ruins
by FluffleNeCharka
Summary: Everything's fallen apart. It may be too late to salvage Danny's life at this point. He's okay with that. But Vlad's reaching out to him, and it seems genuine this time. And he's okay with that, too. Drug usage, death and eventual slash. Danny/Vlad.
1. Falling Fast

**Author's Notes:** Short prologue here. I'm hoping it sets up the typical dark fic downward spiral without coming across as too contrived. Also, this is my first attempt at slash in this fandom, which makes me a touch nervous because, while I'm no stranger to slash and femslash, I haven't attempted this pairing before. And then Danny's probably going to be OOC, and then I've never focused on Vlad at great length either - this is very much a experimental thing for me. Here's hoping it works and everyone doesn't become wildly OOC. And yes, Vlad comes in next chapter. Please feel free to tell me if I mess up, since I can't improve unless I know my failings.

* * *

Peer pressure.

_If everyone else was jumping off a bridge..._ God, what an over used cliche. Like he'd never heard that spiel before.

What a load of crap. What a load of self righteous, self congratulatory crap. He didn't care if no one he knew ever did this in their entire life. He didn't care if it ruined his reputation. Let it. Let his reputation crumble out from under him the same way everything else had, the same way everything else had rotted right in front of him. Everyone was gone. He was alone. Even in this crowded house with it throbbing music and people pressed close, he was completely isolated. These people meant nothing to him. He meant nothing to them, too, so he supposed in some sick way it was all fair in the end. Truthfully some of them had tried reaching out to them, but he was in no state of mind to be helped when everyone who helped him only ended up worse off. It was better for them if they never got too close. That way they wouldn't be burned. At one point he'd have been afraid of retaliation from his friends and family. Back then, though, he wouldn't have wanted to dabble in it, because they were his support network, his soft place to fall, a team of people he could count on. Without them there, what more was there to lose?

Jazz was across the country at college. She needed to keep herself sane and had differences with her parents. A lot of differences. The kind where screaming and arguing late into the night was involved. Sam was... he didn't know. She was somewhere with her over protective parents who were tightening the noose around her more and more. One day they'd kill her with their ignorance. One day she'd snap and break free of them entirely. In the mean time it was as if she'd vanished into thin air. She barely had a chance to say goodbye before she was whisked off. Tucker was dead. He didn't think about that too much, not if he wanted to get through the day with a facade of normality in tact. He was still trying to keep himself together out of habit. It wasn't hard to fool his parents into thinking he was doing just fine when he was actually falling apart. Technically he was okay. He did his best to keep from becoming a mess in case Sam came back one day, but they'd blocked her off so completely that his hope was fading. With it did the will to pretend things were fine or even try to maintain any semblance of order in his life.

The curious thing about falling apart was that he'd thought it would be dramatic. An explosion of anger, disproportionate sorrow, things like that. Instead his life was devoid of sensation, devoid of meaning. The grades that once made his stomach churn were instead just a part of life, as routine as a Monday morning. Without anyone there to hold him back he made short work of Dash with his powers. Amazing what a weekend locked in a janitor's closet could do for a man's temperment. And Danny wasn't rejoicing, because he was barely aware of anything. This world, this life, was both barely real and too much to take. All he wanted was to survive. He wanted to get through the day, to sleep, where things were mildly okay for a moment. He wanted to go sit in front of the TV and watch meaningless garbage while drawing pictures of space. He existed. He did these things. They brought him nothing other than brief relief no one was attacking him. When the attacks came he handled them and went back to holing up in his room, listlessly trying to get through life.

He drifted. He slept through his own life. He barely managed to turn anything in during class. He had no one to talk to, ever. Ghosts were a burden he had no choice but to keep shouldering, keep fighting pointlessly against. All his work was in vain. His life was in vain. If he'd thought about the future it would be depressingly bleak and devoid of options; he had to stay here and keep his parents' portal from destroying them all or unleashing the end. His life was laid out for him before he was even out of high school. His isolation was going to be permanent. He tried not to think about it.

The spike in normal crime wasn't something he technically had to do. It was something he handled because... he didn't know why. He just did. He did it out of some mix of altruism and desperation. He wanted something, somewhere, to go right, and it was enough to keep him doing it but would make a poor argument had anyone called him on it. Had anyone been _left_ to call him out. Of course, there weren't any, and that was probably never going to change. He wasn't sure he wanted anyone else in his life. He'd drag them down. This life, the things he was seeing when he fought humanity's scum, they were draining on the spirit. He had never been tired before now. He knew something was wrong when he took a knife to the shoulder and all he did was gasp. The injury didn't hold over to his human half, which was a shame. Pain brought everything into perspective, made everything clear and crisp and real. He liked it as much as he hated it. He wanted it to sharpen reality even as he sought out a way to push reality farther away. He was, he confessed to himself, a mess. And it mattered as little as everything else did as his blue eyes sought out the familiar form of Andrew Dejoi, dealer and dabbler in the lesser known drugs, the things they didn't get PSAs and assemblies about. Andrew was a dry-humored guy of about 17 years who knew how to avoid the wrong questions with people. He knew what to offer to who. Danny wouldn't question why Andrew was certain he'd pay for it, because Andrew was totally right in guessing Danny's needs.

Peer pressure? Please, he didn't even remember who his peers _were_ anymore. He just wanted the briefest reprieve from this, from the nightmares of everyday life. He wanted to be able to sleep without waking up screaming, kicking or drenched in cold sweat. They were just pills, stronger, more potent than was over-the-counter because Danny's half-ghost body processed medicine differently. Sometimes he couldn't take a normal dosage of certain things without it being too much. Sometimes nothing short of doubling the dosage would make it possible for him to get normal effects. These were dealt out by a dark blonde haired boy whose mother ran a pharmacy. His eyes were warm and kind, a cool toned brown that reminded Danny of Tucker's skin. _Manipulative bastard,_ he'd heard Andrew called before. _Emphasis on the manipulative._ But he was offering a way out. Danny had sought him out in the first place. Nobody was being manipulated. If Danny wanted to he could still turn it down and leave, go home and wait for sleep to come the old fashioned way. He didn't have to take anything. He wanted to, though. He _wanted_ it and that surprised him. Was this unrelenting exhaustion why other people took these kinds of things? All it would take was Danny's allowance, which he scarcely touched anymore. It would be so easy to hide it.

He looked into the eyes of Amity Park's youngest dealer and even though a year ago it would be unthinkable for him to even know there was a party tonight, he reached out and took the bottle. In the orange plastic he caught a glimpse of himself. Lengthier, less taken care of care, too-pale skin, swathed in his customary jacker - Tucket's jacket, once, a gift - and if he had any dignity left he'd berate himself for sinking this low. He'd hate himself if he had any energy left to use to hate with. Instead he handed the man his money and went on his way._ So much for 'Just Say No'_, he thought as he pushed open a side door and felt the cold air swallow him up, grounding him to reality. _That works off the assumption some part of me _wants_ to say no._

His witty one liners were left to the realm of thought as he walked home, the snow crunching under his feet, not caring who had seen him do this or what they thought. His parents would never know. They were so involved in their work they hadn't even bought groceries since October. There was no way these would affect his grades anyway. In the end it was all harmless, anyway, because the only purpose his life served was that of an unpaid policeman against the ghosts. So long as he could do that, he could be on anything, have any grades, and technically he'd be fine. That was all he was needed for, in the end. People needed Danny Phantom.

Nobody needed Danny Fenton, so it didn't matter what he did.


	2. In Pieces

**Author's Note:** In order to avert the Death Is Cheap trope and not make it sound like a gleeful killing off on the part of the author (me), Tucker's death is going to be explained as the traumatic loss of someone really would - hesitantly and not in full at first, not until Danny's ready. Give it time. Also, thank you to my reviewers for their feedback, which is highly appreciated as I struggle to keep Danny in-character. Again, feel free to tell me if I begin to screw up characterization on anyone. We're veering so far into Dark And Edgy territory I'm beginning to think I've going over the edge into cheesy grimdarkness. Also if the HINT HINT HINT-ing throughout about Danny and the terrible Tuesday gets obnoxious, tell me and I will tone it back accordingly.

Hand to God, actual slashy slash will happen next chapter. Promise. I need to set it up before it happens or it'll look unrealistic... I just realized I'm writing about drug addicts and half ghosts and trying to stay realistic. There's something wrong in that statement, but I can't figure out what it is. Anyway please tell me if Andrew begins to overtake the story at any point. I just figured Danny would be vulnerable to a bad influence at this point, and we've all met that totally inconsistant friend you can't seem to break off ties with. But he isn't featured prominently after this chapter. This is really the most Andrew we're getting in a single chapter. I promise. Unless we do a flashback or something, his main purpose will now be the dealing of drugs followed by snarky remarks and maybe jail time.

Also I'm sorry about the length of this thing. Talk about an idea running away from me! I can't even begin to explain how this happened. Again, I promise romance will ensue if I can stop running at the mouth.

* * *

_I'm scared of death, I'm scared of living. I gave up on the past because it's unforgiving. I misplaced my trust, I watched my world begin to rust..._ - Picking Up The Pieces by Blue October

* * *

Danny wasn't sure what he was looking for.

It was two months since his first run in with Andrew. Danny wasn't an addict, but he wasn't clean, either. He had to recognize the problems in him, even if he wasn't actively fighting against him. Ms. Asaji was trying to teach them about Koans, yet they asked questions he couldn't answer anymore. What did he want? Who was he angry at? He didn't kow and had no desire to keep trying to find out at this point. The only thing that mattered was trying to get through the day in one piece and keeping people safe. That was why he'd added fighting normal crime to his list of priorities, too, because if he'd been better at handling that Tucker wouldn't have died in the first place. He really shouldn't even be here pondering abstracts. He ought to be out there working, so that when he showed up at Andrew's house he'd have shiny new bruises to explain. Some part of him _liked_ explaining them to him. At least someone was noticing. His parents certainly weren't.

But Asaji was one of those teachers that would notice his absence, inform other teachers, and generally raise the alarm. She spent a lot of time after hours talking to students about their lives and the struggles they were facing. Sam had always liked her. Asaji was the only person who would care if Danny didn't show up to class, which made her class mandatory. Other classes were more flexible. He barely showed up for his math course anymore, popping into his writing class periodically and somehow, this didn't bother him like it used to. Skipping class was part of the day now, as familiar and normal as the lack of friends by his side, and it wasn't like attending was helping his grade anyway. At some point this would've been unthinkable to him. In some far off time where Andrew was another face in the crowd and Tucker was still here he'd never have bee so brazen about this. That life seemed like another person's now.

Something was wrong. He thought he might even know what was wrong. But changing wouldn't make his life right anymore. He could flush the pills and delete Andrew's number and he wouldn't magically just be okay. He could try to get good grades and it wouldn't make his parents give a crap, nor would it bring Tucker back. Tucker... maybe that was what was really wrong. He had been Danny's friend even before Sam, a constant, as reliable and familiar as the sun, always there. There was a Tucker sized hole where his voice and presence still lingered in the halls. Danny had dreams sometimes where Tucker was there, telling Danny that he was sick and needed help, needed to stop.

Of course, the truth was that Danny was alone. He'd done a piece of art once, tried to draw something for art class to salvage his grade before midterms came out. He'd been half-high on what he took, that delirious weakness before sleep set in, and he didn't even recall what he came up with until he woke up and found it on his desk. The words "in the end, you're lost. always" were scribbled out in lavender an gray, buried in a sea of green smeared on the paper afterward, mixed with water so it wouldn't overwhelm all the other colors. He hadn't turned the picture in. There were too many personal things in it to open it up to scrutiny. BREATHE written drowning under other colors, other shades of blue. Everything was blue, gray or green. There was a boy in the center with a gouged out, bleeding hole where an eye had been, hands tearing at him. Hands that were pulling him a half dozen different directions. The blood was unnaturally black, pooling underneath him.

He didn't get it, what it meant. Except with how dreary and rainy it had been lately, how cold and snowy, it was probably very accurate that everything was cool toned. Cold. No warmth, no life, just blue blood and gray everywhere. The art teacher would've liked it. Mr. Vargas would have told him it was beautiful. But he might have seen past it to the problems that lurked beneath. He might have wanted to hang it up so people could see it, or something equally annoying. Danny had abandoned his search for popularity back when he had friends; he wanted peace and quiet, nothing more.

Oh, wait. Maybe he did know what he wanted. Maybe that was why he had those pills. It was a thought, anyway, something to ponder over as he walked home through the cold streets, having managed to get through Asaji's class without any troubles today. Thank God. Now he could go lay down and get a few cautious moments of sleep in before ghosts attacked yet again. Night was their favored time, and that was good, because it meant the evenings were relatively safe to sleep through. He had to rouse himself once or twice out of a drug induced sleep to fight, and those had been barely won conflicts he hoped not to repeat. He barely remembered any of it, only realized he'd been hit when the bruises formed the next day, didn't even recall who he was fighting until it was on the news.

That ought to have been terrifying. It wasn't. Nothing could convince him to give up the only peace of mind he had left. He had to call Andrew later today, see if he'd gotten ahold of anything. Andrew was strangely sweet to Danny, 'manipulative bastard' or not. He'd let him have a few pills on the house, extras to hold him over, and given him a litany of warnings the second time Danny bought from him. It was probably a front of some kind, some kind of deception to keep the black haired boy buying. He didn't have to. Danny would've bought this from him had he been a total asshole. Ultimately he found he didn't hate the drug dealer as much as he thought he would. When it got right down to it they were just people trying to survive.

A voice broke Danny out of his reprieve. "Fancy a ride, Daniel?"

He looked at Vlad as if he couldn't understand a word he said. "I don't have time for you today."

_And people think _Andrew_ is the manipulative bastard._ He walked forward on automatic, never breaking pace or speeding up. _Vlad could tutor people in that particular art._ He ran a hand through his hair idly, feeling the wet of the snow cling to his fingers. He hated winter. Soon it would the pre-Christmas season and everyone would be out and about, celebrating the supposed family holiday. He'd be alone as usual trying to ignore the Christmas specials and the growing sense of loss when he absently thought about what to get Tucker and Sam and then corrected himself. All he wanted to do was salvage his Science grade via a quick paper before getting a nap in prior to tonight's inevitable wave of crime.

"Now, really," Vlad frowned, "I was just asking. It's sure to be faster than walking in this weather. Not everything I do is filled with mal-content."

Danny huffed and turned to open the car door. "Fine, whatever. It's not like I can't just phase away if you do try anything."

"Honestly, your father's paranoia is rubbing off on you if you think that's what this is about. I was headed over to the police department's internal affairs office and saw you," he explained calmly. "It's just a ride, not a car. You can relax."

_Yes, I can. If I have two white pills pressed under my tongue and all the lights turned off. This limo has neither._ Danny studied Vlad silently for a moment. "This really was an accident. This isn't my normal route home."

"I hate to hurt your self-importance, but I don't know your normal route home in the first case," the older man replied, smirking. "What, did you miss me?"

"No," Danny said flatly, his voice neither angry, snarky or sarcastic. "Don't try to bait me. I'm not in the mood for witty banter - funny, joke around Danny isn't here today."

Vlad quirked an eyebrow at that, but it was clear Danny was done talking, and he stared silently out the window with an unusually tired expression on his face. His hair was a mess, his jeans were frayed and torn, and he was thinner than usual. His lack of energy was obvious, but when Vlad looked closer it wasn't just that, it was a hundred little things that were off. Danny looked as bad as he felt, and that was saying something. There were faint blood stains on his jacket from some scuffle somewhere. His backpack was laden down with homework. And he wasn't even trying to make jokes anymore.

While business and the maintenance thereof had kept Vlad away for several months, he was not so oblivious he didn't know about Miss Manson's family moving away, or the fate of Tucker Foley. He knew these things had to be taking their toll on Danny's health, physically and mentally. Nobody bounced back forever. He reached out and placed a hand on Danny's shoulder, an action that once would've gotten a violent reaction. Today all it earned him was a look. Not even a glare, just a silent expression. There were rings under Danny's eyes, dark ones that aged him, making him look too old, too worn down. The silence between them was like a dare for Vlad to press further, a nonverbal _go ahead, ask me what's wrong_. Danny baited and challenged him with a single look from his brilliant blue eyes. _Prove you give a damn,_ his look said. _Make me believe you care._

Vlad took the bait. He was too concerned not to. "Are you okay?"

Danny hadn't counted on him actually saying anything. "...I'll live."

"That's not what I asked."

"Define 'okay', then," Danny snapped back, with a touch of the old witticism returning. "My okay is different than your okay."

"I don't think you're either, Daniel. You look like crap-"

"Love you too, Vlad."

"-and you've been through a lot. You know you can always talk to me," Vlad finished, sounding lame even to his own ears. Danny snorted and rolled his eyes at him derisively.

"Yeah, I'm sure you'd be a soft place to fall. Please," Danny's sarcasm and disdain was now in full swing, "Don't try to tell me you're always there for me. Like I don't know what you want me for? You don't give a shit about me outside of the ghost DNA and I don't half time for this."

It felt good to swear, to shock someone, to see those dark gray-blue eyes widen. Danny had been doing stupid things for a while now, but this was a guilty pleasure he had little guilt for. Some part of him that was tired of playing the good boy enjoyed letting loose a few choice words and seeing people react. Why, yes, he _was_ human and he _could_ sink that low. Shock tactics or not, he got the reaction he wanted out of Vlad, an indignant gasp and clear anger since he'd hit home perfectly. He freaking knew it. Everyone wanted to use him. He was beginning to realize the difference was only that few people were up front about it. He watched Vlad watch him and waited for the verbal response. _This may be the most honest conversation we've ever had_, he noted dryly. _How pathetic._ But in some sick way, he knew what Vlad did when he was angry was usually what he honestly felt, and that was what he wanted. He didn't have time for anymore lies. He wasn't that patient anymore. If anything he was less mature than he'd ever been.

"Is that really what you think of me?" Vlad hissed, clenching his fists. "You think I'm incapable of caring about someone?"

"I don't think I care," Danny shot back. "I just wanted you to know I'm sick of being used."

"I - look, I may not have behaved properly in the past, but I am _not_ interested in 'using' you in any way. I happen to have a genuine fondness for you," he defensively replied. "Is that so hard to fathom?"

"Yes." He didn't even have to think about it. He paused and thought about how hurtful that must've sounded. "No. Maybe... I don't know. I don't think I can deal with you on top of everything else. Can't you just leave me alone?"

"Do you really want to be left alone?" Vlad asked. "If that's true, why take my ride in the first place?"

Danny didn't answer. _I'm not going there,_ his expression said plainly. _Too tired to._

They came to a stop in front of his house, and the silver haired man reached for Danny's arm to stop him. When he did so, Danny inhaled sharply. He didn't move. For a moment they looked at each other, and Vlad wondered how they'd come to this point. How he'd wrecked his own relationships until he couldn't talk to anyone. Why was something so simple so ridiculously hard? He knew how to talk to exectuives, police officers, suck ups and detractors to his position as mayor, but Danny was different. Danny wasn't himself anymore. He was worn down, a young man on the cusp of adulthood who was more mature and more immature than anyone else he'd ever known. Vlad pulled out a scrap of paper with his private cell phone number written on it.

"Call me, if you need to talk." His eyes locked onto Danny's. "Please."

"I wouldn't know what to say," Danny admitted, something briefly raw and vulnerable in his eyes. It was a strange expression, one of honesty and openness. In that moment Vlad thought he saw a flicker of the real Danny underneath the mask, and that person wasn't going to be alright.

"Then just say whatever you think. Or feel. I'm hardly the patron saint of understanding," Vlad added, "But I can try. If you'll give me a chance, that is."

He inhaled slowly. "...Okay."

* * *

Andrew picked up his phone on the first ring. "Yes?" he asked calmly.

"Its, um, it's me."

"Ah, Danny. That's not too bad. A dozen lasted you a week. You should try to keep it that way; it's not something I reccommend in large doses." He smiled even though Danny couldn't see him. "I assume you want a refill."

"I have the money," Danny said quietly. "I was hoping you could up the number a little."

Andrew paused. "I'm not too keen on this after... you know."

"That was an accident. Just give me twenty or so. Please? I've been having a really rough week. Just this once, man."

"Alright, I guess," he sighed. "I really hope you don't plan on killing yourself with that."

"What? No! I wouldn't-"

"Because you know I can get you uppers, and I don't want to see you go. Shit, Danny, if things are that bad consider anything yours for free. You know you can talk to me, right?" He fiddled with his necklace as he talked, the heavy gold chain weighing down on his neck. "I know a guy, a rehab, sort of a runaway home, might help-"

"I'm _fine_," Danny stated clearly. "Why are you so worried about me all of a sudden?"

"You've been through a lot. Most of it at once. If you need anything, you know I'm here, right?" His tone became biting suddenly. "Or do you think I'm the cold hearted drug dealer out to only make money? After I saved your ass last time, I'm still the villain?"

"No, nothing like that. It's just... it's funny, you're the second person to try and get me to open up today."

"Good. You need it. And you'll get sixteen, no more. I don't want you overdosing. You do too much, you call nine one one, alright?" Andrew's voice left no room for arguments.

"Fine. I'll meet you at the usual spot. Jeez, you're like the team mom or something."

He snorted. "If I'm your mother figure, this is a profoundly screwed up family. There's something horribly Freudian about this, but I'm not going to think too hard about it. You take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Like people would notice if I actually died."

"Just for that, you can have fourteen and consider yourself grateful."

* * *

Danny took two and called it a weekend.

His parents had informed him a ghost hunter's convention was in Paragon, not an hour away. No one would be as stupid as to cause havoc with that happening. Danny could take a rare night off and he immediately curled up in bed, laying there in the dark for the full twenty minutes or so it would take to get full effect. It had been scary, the first time, and he'd barely dared to do one. He'd slept like a baby and woke up feeling better than he had in months. Two would take him out for nearly a full day, and his parents were none the wiser. Their research kept them from noticing. They'd never noticed his absences. He was invisible to them most of the time now. They were so involved with whatever it was they were researching that they just couldn't pull themselves away, and maybe that was good. It helped him a lot with his ghost fighting, anyway. With them distracted his coming and going at all hours was a lot easier to pull off.

Any anger or hurt he felt at being totallt ignored all the time was subdued by the magic of the pills, and he drifted in and out of coherent thought, shifting from serious to surreal thoughts before slipping into the cool embrace of darkness. He drowned in it, it the lengthy black outs that this allowed him to indulge in. Sleep could be abused. Dreaming could be used. Night time didn't have to end. It would've been sick if it weren't so beautiful, so comforting, like falling into the outstretched arms of a benevolent spirit. He couldn't see this as bad. The real world was harsh and growing harsher. How could sleep be bad? How could dreaming be wrong? At least in his dreams things were peaceful.

He dreamt of Vlad, of Clockwork lecturing him on second chances. He pictured Vlad alone and trapped in a realm of gray, swirling mist. Then he was by Vlad's side, and while they weren't clear on where they were, at least Vlad wasn't completely lost in the darkness. It was a good dream, the kind where Vlad didn't trick him or hurt him, but instead took him by the hand as they walked through the thick fog. Everything was strange, and vague, and Danny thought it was weird when he woke up, yet he didn't try to forget it. It wasn't such a bad suggestion. Maybe he should give Vlad a second chance. Everyone deserved that, didn't they? He'd think about it when he was awake enough to sit up without falling.

The hand holding was a touch gay. Then again, it might've been symbolic. He'd never listened to Jazz's ramblings about dream interpretations. To him, they were precious escapes and not something to be wrecked with over analyzing. Besides, the meaning was pretty blatant, so it didn't need any looking at. _Oh, look, my subconscious is being nice to me. It knows I skipped Psychology, so it explained it for me._ Somehow, this was comforting when half asleep. He rolled over and drifted into a second sleep without another thought on the matter, happy for the uninterrupted weekend of peace and quiet. He drifted back as easily as he came, into a secnd dream he wouldn't remember upon waking up, content with this moment of peace. He thought the second one might've involved flying. He loved those dreams almost as much as he loved flying in real life. After that he was perfectly happy to stay still and quiet and drift in and out of awareness.

He stayed that way until, eventually, the pills wore off and he found himself hungry. He glanced at the clock. Nine in the morning. He checked his computer; nine _Sunday_ morning. Maybe he ought to stick to one from now on, but he'd already lied to Andrew to get ahold of some extras, just in case. He just needed to have one on him in case something bad happened; these things were incredible at relieving panic. It wasn't an addiction, really, just a safety measure. He was the town's only super hero. He couldn't be freaking out all the time. They needed him to stay calm and collected. Yawning, he went down the stairs only to find Vlad in his kitchen, talking to his mother in hushed tones.

_Well, so much for that whole 'good day' thing._ He rubbed the side of his head and sighed. _Calm down, they can't know. They don't have any proof and all the pills are hidden. And Andrew wouldn't tell on me. Would he? ...yes. Totally and completely. I bet it was him, come to think of it._

That much he'd never gotten - Andrew the manipulative bastard, caring buddy, drug dealer and suggester of therapists and rehabs. He hated the human race, screwed anyone who would do him, had a close circle of friends and profesed not to believe people could care about each other. Someone needed to get that guy some help; he was at least four different people on any given day. He was so all over the place that Danny was never sure how he'd react to anything. What offended him on Monday might make him laugh Tuesday and mean nothing to him by Friday. When he wanted to he could play innocent, but Danny had seen him angry, and angry Andrew was a terrifying blonde fury with a mouth so dirty that Danny still didn't know what half those words meant. It was weird having a friend who would just as soon slap you to wake you up as he would hug you.

So if anyone ratted him out, it'd be Andrew. Well, too late now to change that much. All he could do now was try to salvage the situation. Danny finger combed his hair and hoped he looked presentable enough to pass whatever inspection they were going to do. He never thought he'd see the day where he hoped Vlad was seducing his mother. _I'm reaching new lows._ His mother looked up as he got closer, eyes worried and thoughtful rather than squicked and unhappy. Vlad frowned at him worriedly. Oh, crap. _I have a terrible feeling I might be giving Andrew a call after this is over. Assuming he's not responsible for this, that is._

"Hey, uh, what's up?" Danny asked in what he hoped was a casual voice.

"Danny, are you okay?" his mother asked gently. "You've been very run down lately. Vlad and I are concerned."

"But not Dad, of course," Danny muttered under his breath. His mother glared at him and he sighed. "Oh, like you've never slept in before. And what does Vlad know about me anyway?"

"I know as tired as you look, you still have to be very stressed to sleep for over twenty four hours," Vlad replied solemnly. "Your mother and I have been debating, with the end of my term as mayor coming up, if you wouldn't be better off staying with me for a bit, in Wisconsin."

"Oh, yeah, _that_ will help," the dark haired teen repied grumpily. _Stay calm and maybe they won't say anything. Maybe Andrew didn't call and everything's okay. Breathe, Fenton, breathe._ "I barely know you. I don't care if you're a friend of my parents, that would be _weird_. I'm better off here where I have friends."

"Like who?" his mother challenged, quirking an eyebrow.

"Like Andrew. And..." he drew a blank. His mother crossed her arms over her chest, victorious. "Look, he's the only one who hasn't been a douche to me. Don't write him off."

"I'm not, sweetie, but you're under a lot of pressure here. It'd be better for you if you had a fresh place to start over, unwind a little," his mother cooed gently. She made it sound tempting. "Vlad has been changing, and he wants to help you. Your father and I think it'd be a good idea for you. Just consider it, will you? You've got a few months."

"Fine," he muttered, opening the fridge. "Am I in trouble or something? Andrew and I were going to go see a movie with a few of his buddies." Under his breath, he added, "I can't believe he thinks I need to get out more. Hypocritical jackass..."

"You're not in trouble, but you will be if you keep using that language," Maddie said firmly. "And I agree with him. You need to get out of the house. Just be back before your curfew, sweetie. We worry."

_Bull-freaking-shit. I didn't come home and you two didn't even notice. Andrew still can't believe that one and he's _used_ to this stuff. _He shuddered at the memory. _That was the night I learned an important lesson about who I can really rely on. You didn't even notice. I was dying and Andrew goddamn Dejoi had to save me._ With vivid blurriness he recalled staring up at him from the floor, the world awash in lights and moving dots as his consciousness gave out on him. That was the last time he ever bought anything from anyone else. He woke up on Andrew's couch to discover it was Tuesday and no one had missed him.

He'd gone out on a Saturday night.

He was trying not to be resentful, but it was kind of hard not to feel hurt. _Like you really freaking care._ If he closed his eyes and tried to recall it he could remember the smell of Andrew's suede jacket over him, the feel of the beaten up couch underneath him, so warm and inviting. He'd been asleep for so long, when he woke up he couldn't stop shaking. He hadn't known what happened. And the only person left that cared was the town whore, the drug dealer, the lowest of Amity Park's low. Danny was pretty sure he cried at some point. Andrew's friend Duan had been standing by as if guarding him, stoic and strong in the face of crisis. _If you're Andrew's BFF, you probably get used to this kind of thing._ He didn't remember how he got home or anything else that week. One betrayal after another was too much to take.

His most loyal friends were a drug dealer, the drug dealer's BFF, and Vlad. That sounded terrible even to him, even half awake as he made breakfast. Some part of him mulled over the idea of trying to trust Vlad. No, it was unthinkable even _before_ now, but after having everything go wrong, why tempt faint with this? It was a terrible idea. He'd be leaving himself open to anything Vlad tried. He'd be breakable, pliable, and the town needed him. The town depended on him. His parents might make the connection - no, he couldn't think that without snorting. They wouldn't realize he was Phantom if the two vanished at the same time. Someone might. He'd be leaving the people of Amity Park to fend for themselves entirely.

Andrew had suggested rehab. His _dealer_ had suggested _rehab_. That couldn't be good. Was he getting worse? Did he really need help? Was Vlad really any different than he'd been before? People changed and people revealed themelves to have more depths than he'd known, but trust didn't come easily to him anymore. He didn't know whether to throw himself at Vlad and scream 'fix me' or punch him in the gut and tell him to fuck off. In the course of two months only one person - two, counting Duan - had been truly consistant and trustable. That wasn't a good thing. He was getting a reputation. It was finally leaking back to his parents. If those two oblivious idiots were noticing, how much time did he have left before he crashed and burned?

How desperate did he have to be before he admitted something was wrong? If that terrible Tuesday morning hadn't been enough, what would it take for him? He wasn't sure if he was fine or not. He wasn't sure if he loved his parents, hated them, thought they were idiots or geniuses. Everything was on uncertain ground that only got shakier as time went on. He didn't know if it was okay to leave or not. He wasn't sure if he cared if Amity Park was okay when he was gone again. Screw them. They hadn't done anything for him. Before breakfast was over he'd downed aspirin to combat the migraine forming, pretending not to see two sets of worried eyes on him. He had an easier time believing the concern in Vlad's eyes than his own mother's. How sick was that? How on Earth had they reached this point? He prayed Andrew had some weed on hand. All he wanted to do was let him take the wheel and make this all okay again. Because right now, Danny couldn't face his life, and he didn't even want to try anymore. _Somebody stop the world, I want to get off now. _It was such a pathetic thought he had to smile at it. The cool air felt good on his face when he forced himself out the door. Freedom. Morning. Daylight. Two now familiar forms, one blonde and the other dark wine red. A brief reprieve from reality, one that he needed to survive. Daily living was a nightmare and escape came in the form of people he'd never given the time of day to back when he had Sam and Tucker. _How far I've fallen. Please, God, let Andrew have something._

If only he didn't have to go back when this was over.


	3. Edging Forward

The funeral wasn't the hard part.

Holding Sam while she cried wasn't the hard part. Seeing Tucker's parents look shell shocked and horrified, that wasn't hard. Not compared to life after that. Life without Tucker. Part of him was missing. Part of his day was gone. Things weren't right anymore, weren't complete without his best friend beside him. Everything from playing video games to eating lunch felt wrong. Every single thing he did felt off kilter and incomplete and they always would. Walking down the street even felt weird without the familiar form beside him, that cheerful voice going on about nerdy things, those green eyes alight with never ending thoughts. That was the hard part. The hard part was living life knowing something was wrong that would never ever be set right again.

Andrew sort of filled a void. He wasn't anything like Tucker. He wasn't a replacement Tucker. But he was a friend, someone to talk to and confide in and whine at. It was a shred of normalcy that he clung to with desperation. And yes, Andrew was all over the place morally and personality wise, wildly inconsistant, a terrible person to rely on. Danny was aware of that. He just didn't have any other options anymore. Anyone was better than total loneliness and nothingness. He needed someone in his life that was a friend, even a bad influence. A bad influence was still better than nothing. That bad influence was there for him when he called at two AM plagued by nightmares and needed more pills. The bad influence got ahold of test answers that salvaged Danny's Science grade. He wasn't perfect, far from it, but who wasn't? At least he was trying to help. That was more than anyone else was doing.

"You should call your sugar daddy," Andrew told him when he told him about Vlad. "Go hang out with him for a place. Detox, talk about your feelings, all that shit. It'll be good for you."

"He's not my sugar daddy. He's a perv who's in love with my mom. That's creepy," he said with a sigh. "Though I'm sure you have some one liner about it stored up."

"One liners, pills and advice are all I bring to the table. Well, that and my dashing good looks." Andrew grinned, wrapping an arm around Danny's shoulders. "Seriously, though, think about it. A break from all the bullshit of school. No more drama or cliques or rumors. Just a mansion and a man who you can play like a fiddle just by crying."

"You _really_ don't know Vlad." Danny smirked weakly. "I'm pretty sure he's got some secret evil intent behind this."

"Just because someone has it out for you doesn't mean you can't take advantage of them. It's never stopped me. Danny, you need to just keep in mind that at any moment, you can destroy his reputation with allegations, true or otherwise." Andrew grinned evilly. "If all else fails, you call me, I requisition a ride from somewhere, plant something illegal in his house and then the cops show up. He can't do anything to you that I can't outdo in a heartbeat."

"You scare me."

"Thank you," he replied with a bow of his head. "I do my best. Now, are you going to call him or what? You need to go somewhere that doesn't remind you of Tucker. I don't think he ever spent a lot of time with old Vladdy boy, right?"

Danny looked directly at him. "Why are you talking me into this?"

"I'm trying to save you from the depths of high school insanity. In a better world, I would have options besides shipping you off to the mayor's den of luxury, but," he shrugged lightly, "You have to make do with what you're given. Come on. You have the rest of the school year to march through Hell barefoot. A brief reprieve won't kill you."

"...if this goes wrong, I blame you."

"Ha! I knew I could change your mind! Now come on, let's go crash over at Duan's place - we need to celebrate and I know for a fact he has some schapps stored up. Things are looking up!" He pulled Danny forward, still smiling. His joy was infectious and his eyes were alight with mischief. It was easy to give himself over to Andrew's plotting and let himself be dragged into more bad behavior, because his only other option was sitting around at home missing Tucker and dying inside.

Schnapps seemed like the responsible thing to do by comparison.

* * *

When Danny called Vlad, he had the good sense to wait until he'd sobered up significantly.

If anyone knew, they wouldn't understand. There were lots of girls out there with a saving-people-thing, with the need to try and save men with problems. Those relationships blew up rather quickly. The conflict between a condescending self proclaimed hero and a broken person trying to stay afloat always ended badly. Even if they got the guy off the drug, it was over forever fairly rapidly. Rescue romances only worked in movies and books. In reality people couldn't live with the incredible inequality and shame inherent in such relationships. Even in friendships, things like this couldn't work. So in the name of keeping the peace, Danny waited until he was sober to make the degrading, humiliating phone call to his former enemy.

"School lets out after this week for Christmas break. Jazz can't make it home this year," he said tiredly into the phone, fiddling with a pencil while looking at his undone homework. "If things go marginally good I might stay with you for the holidays. Can't be any worse than things are here."

"I'm sure it's not all terrible, Daniel. Your mother seems very concerned about you. You could try talking to her." Typical Vlad. Even in nice mood, he was focused on Maddie.

"I would if she wasn't preoccupied doing damage control with Dad. He's not taking the new wave of paranormal investigators well." He leaned his head against the wall of his room, listening to shouting from downstairs. "I'm so tired of all this."

"Your father can be quite... passionate in his debate. Perhaps it's for the best you take a break from his zeal," Vlad said, carefully trying to avoid slamming Jack Fenton's good name in front of his son. _I'm trying to get him to trust me. I should not talk about what a pathetic parent Jack is being, for the little badger's own sake._ "I'm sure he'll calm down a bit with time. This isn't the first time his field of study has seen a spike in activity."

"Yeah, he'll calm down and go back to being embarrassing and obsessive." Danny wasn't so much angry as just through dealing with this. "Great. Whatever. I'll see you after school on Friday, Vlad."

Danny hung up and threw his cell phone on his bed, sinking into his desk chair to set about trying to salvage his grades. It was a futile effort, but it gave him something to focus on besides his father railing against the evils of all the new paranormal investigators. He could hear the man's rant about Seth Winters being an unscientific disgrace through the floor. His blue eyes flickered over to his coat, where he kept his stash. Well, part of it. It was best not to keep all of it in one place. He didn't want the one thing getting him through the day taken away due to poor planning. But no matter where he put it, the siren song of its effects were present. He could go over and take some and let the arguing and the homework and the suffocating loneliness drift away. And he could breathe, just for one day...

It was beginning to take more to get the same effect. That wasn't a good sign. Andrew was worried. The dealer being worried _really_ wasn't a good sign. Danny was sure that he was really starting to spiral downward into the territory of having a true problem. He was kind of scared. Unfortunately, he was more tired than he was scared. He wanted more than anything to have a break from all of this, to slip away from the world for just a little while, so he wouldn't have to worry about everything and try to keep so many balls in the air at once. He stared at his coat for a long time, contemplatively.

Then he got up and took two pills out. He soothed his conscious by saying it was just this once and he wouldn't keep up this kind of dosage every day. He didn't have a problem, he was in control. He wasn't an addict.

All this was forgotten before the newfound quiet took him off to sleep.

* * *

Danny was still grieving.

Vlad wasn't sure how to handle that kind of emotional state, but he could tell by Danny's behavior that he hadn't recovered from the loss of his best friend yet. He hadn't even begun to. He was too busy trying to play hero and keep his grades up and take his parent's changing behavior in stride. He looked exhausted. Something was deeply wrong and Vlad didn't know what it was. All he knew was that if someone didn't step in and keep Danny from going off the deep end, he was going to lose it eventually. This was Vlad's chance to make up for everything, by being a soft place to fall, a person to grieve with, somehow. He didn't know where to start, but he was going to try his best. He would not let Danny's life be ruined because Jack Fenton couldn't get off his ass and parent for five seconds of his life. It was far from too late to turn things around and if no one else wanted to help, fine. Vlad could run everything by himself. He always had. That was what he did - he kept things going through sheer determination and wit. If he could build a business empire, he could surely handle the daunting task of _cheering someone up_. He wasn't in the least bit intimidated by Danny's new personality, he told himself as he led Danny through the mansion.

"I picked out a room for you, I hope you don't mind," Vlad said with his usual mask of confidence and poise. "Of course, we can always change that later. But first I thought you might like an early dinner, since the drive over was rather lengthy. Is that alright?" _Say something, anything. Stop being so quiet. This isn't like you._

Danny shrugged. _I really don't give a crap._ "It's fine," he said tonelessly.

"How's school going?" Vlad asked, searching his mind for age-appropriate, non-hero related topics. It was unwise to bring up Danny Phantom and the stress therein on a vacation dedicated to getting Danny back on his feet. It also left Vlad with no idea how to proceed in a conversation with a teenager.

_Terrible. My dad will kill me when he sees my grades. I think I bombed my Math test and I may have done more homework in the limo than at home in weeks, _Danny thought, but didn't say out loud. Instead, he just shrugged again. "It's alright."

"Daniel... your mother told me about your grades," he said carefully, watching Danny's face for a reaction. "I happen to know it's not alright."

The lack of response was worse than a negative one. He almost wanted Danny to yell at him and tell him it was none of his business. Where was that old fire, that passion, the normal gambit of teenage emotions and defiance? Where was _Danny_? This was really not how he'd pictured this visit going. He'd known something was wrong, of course - of course Daniel was going to be withdrawn with what had happened, and it was expected for him not to trust Vlad, but this was something else. This was too apathetic, too dead when he normally would've at least made a quip or a joke. Something was really wrong. Vlad would've given anything to at least get a glare from him.

"Going ghost and going to school was hellish even when I had friends to help me. Now..." his bright blue eyes had a dull, far away look. "I'm doing my best," he said defensively, eyes flickering towards Vlad briefly. For a second there was some of his old vitrol back.

"I know you are," Vlad replied, watching with fascination as Danny rubbed at the side of his head as if experiencing a headache. He decided to switch topics in an attempt to keep the boy out of his depression, however temporarily. "Why are you wearing your jacket indoors? Aren't you hot?"

"Not really," he replied, a bit too fast, with practiced and forced nonchalance. "I'm fine."

Vlad quit walking and put a hand on his shoulder. "No, you're not. But you will be." He locked eyes with a dubious looking teen. "I promise. Not to sound trite and cliche, but it gets better."

Danny shut his eyes. "I don't want to do this right now." He paused, rephrasing it in his head so it made sense. "I mean, can we stay away from all the heavy stuff and just... just be normal for a little bit, Vlad?"

He let his hand drop. "Alright. Whatever you need, Daniel."

Danny met his eyes briefly. "Thank you," he said, and the words carried a world of meaning beyond Vlad's ability to explain. But they didn't pause to discuss it.

Dinner was waiting.


	4. Reveal Release Relapse

_So brave to stand in the face of the world in ruins. To stand so tall when in fact in ruins. To face that kind of darkness and dive in, just solemn and alone, and to fall down..._ Interview At The Ruins by Circle Takes Square

* * *

Danny couldn't sleep.

Not because he was in Vlad's house. No, he was over that. Vlad was trying and whatever agenda he had, it would be worth it to have these peaceful moments far removed from the rest of his life. He felt like he was a world away, somewhere foreign where he wasn't expected to put on an act. The bed was warm and plush and had far too many blankets, the room was overly modern and had enough video games and DVDs to keep a fleet of teens preoccupied. His problem wasn't Vlad's attempts at accomodations. The man was clearly trying his best, however awkward and stilted that might be. Danny's problem sleeping was that the more he popped pills, the harder it was to fall asleep organically. Two days in a row rendered him an insomniac.

He'd done three solid days of forced sleep. Now he was tired but unable to sleep, staring at the ceiling of the unfamiliar room, and thought of the future. Not the future of his life. God, no. The future as a whole was an unfathomable monster, a mountain at a one hundred and twenty degree angle he couldn't scale. The very thought of the rest of his life was enough to drive him to some very dark places mentally. He survived by taking things one day, one ghost fight, one failed test and one moment at a time. It was the only way to endure the endless monotony that was slowly wearing him down as months passed. Sometimes he felt pathetic that day to day life was too much for him. His parents didn't beat him, he'd never been assaulted or hurt sexually or abandoned or something truly awful. He just couldn't take everyday living anymore. And he had no good reason other than the truly emo and pathetic 'I'm alone'.

He forced his thoughts back to the rest of the time he had with Vlad. Vlad had suggested Danny just take a day off to play video games, read and relax. There were things they could do, some ice fesitval thing a few towns over, a chairty ball Vlad had been invited to, things that sounded like desperate attempts at socialization to Danny, but all of those could wait until later. Every thing was very deliberately optional, as if Vlad was aware Danny needed time and space. His enemy knew his weaknesses and he didn't care. So what if Vlad was aware of how pathetic he was? What was he going to do, kill him? He could've done that with a sniper before now if he wanted it. Nothing made any sense anymore. That wasn't new. Things hadn't made sense since Tucker's funeral.

Whatever evil plans Vlad had, though, if they involved a bowl of warm soup and idle chatter over dinner, they couldn't be all bad. The least he could do was give this a shot. He'd come this far, after all. He'd had a symbolic dream and a relatively painless free day. Those had to be good signs, even if the dream was really straightforward and poorly put together and the day had been composed of a lot of awkward silence. This was still progress. The next couple of days might be fun if he tried hard enough. He might be able to make this into some brief moments of painlessness with enough help. It was worth trying for. He wasn't really sure how to try, but it was still worth it.

Life after that wouldn't be. Eventually, he had to come back to Amity. Just like how no amount of schnapps with Andrew could cloud over the inevitability of returning to his house. Eventually, he always had to go back to the routine that was slowly dragging him down. That was why he had to focus on the now, the immediate future, tomorrow and nothing past that. Otherwise he would have a breakdown. He couldn't afford a breakdown. He was Danny Phantom. He had to be tough. He had to be two people. One person who was a figurehead and a hero. The other was nothing. The other couldn't afford to be anything to anyone. Fortunately that half of him wasn't loved or wante by anyone, so nothing he did mattered. There was a sort of silence that came with apathy. Not peace. Just silence. It was the closest to contentment he had anymore.

At some point after midnight he finally fell asleep, and had a dream that he didn't have the burden of remembering when he woke up.

* * *

Danny was gorgeous when he stumbled into the kitchen, clad in yesterday's clothes, jacket rumpled, face clouded in tiredness.

He was gorgeous because he didn't look depressed or sad or hurt, and that was what Vlad wanted. He looked better, the bags under his eyes slightly lightened, his gaze more focused. He wasn't back to normal - things were never that easy - but it was progress and that was worth celebrating. Vlad smiled at him and gestured for him to sit down as one of his servants made breakfast for them. Danny's hair was a mess of black strands, his skin paler than it should be and he slumped in his chair. Something about all these things in concert with each other was just so human Vlad couldn't help but feel affectionate towards him. _This_ was the Danny he knew and loved. The broken man he'd seen yesterday wasn't right. This wasn't right either, but it was leaps and bounds closer.

"What time is it?" Danny asked groggily.

"A little past nine, Daniel."

He groaned. "It's too early. Ugh. My internal clock must still be set to school time. What's for breakfast?"

"French toast." He smiled as Danny's eyes lit up. "Oh, I see I've found your one true weakness."

"I love breakfast food. I'd eat it for every meal if I could. Granted, Jazz always said it was unhealthy, but I think she was just jealous of how good my omelettes are." He seemed almost normal, almost happy. "It's a rare gift."

"So you're in a house with one of the richest men in the world, who could offer you the destruction of your enemies or riches beyond your imagination, and you want breakfast food." Vlad shook his head. "Your mind is truly a unique entity."

"I'll take that as a compliment. It sucks, but it's nine, so that makes sense. No one can think until after eleven."

"I see. And where did you obtain that fact?"

"Made it up."

Vlad grinned. He couldn't help it. Danny managed a sleepy smile as he rubbed at his eyes. In doing do, he drew to Vlad's attention that he was still eternally lad in that black jacket. Why he couldn't have grabbed something else when Vlad had a whole closet prepper for him, he didn't know. Maybe Danny was just so tired he'd forgotten to even change clothes at this point. Well, he was free from that exhausting and miserable place now, and Vlad was going to make things better before they hit unrepairable levels of insanity.

"Is there anything in particular you'd like to do today, Daniel?"

"Teach you to call me Danny. Daniel makes me sound official and important."

"Official?" Vlad asked, quirking an eyebrow. "I thought I was being polite. Although I suppose one leads into another. Danny, then. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. I thought about piggybacking off your richness to get Sam something, but her parents would just throw it out, so..." He deflated visibly. "Tucker would've loved the new PDAs your tech division has. He'd have geeked out just at the ads."

Danny's happy mood was draining out of him and all Vlad could do was watch. _Oh, little badger, you have lost everything._ He wanted to know how it was possible he could negotiate for international patents without being able to understand a teenage boy. All his genius and wealth was useless as Danny drifted off into that awful lost silence. When Vlad's cook set the French toast in front of the boy, he didn't even look up. She frowned.

"I-is something wrong, sir? Would you like powdered sugar or more butter, perhaps?" she asked gently. She glanced at Vlad, who raised his shoulders in a gesture of cluelessness. "What would you like to drink?"

"Orange juice," he said dully, picking up his fork. "Thanks."

He ate without tasting any of it, eyes a thousand miles away, and slipped away after that. Vlad found him passed out in a cushy chair in the library, curled up with a book about NASA's moon missions. He looked so small and frighteningly young and incredibly old all at once that Vlad wasn't sure whether to leave him there or wake him or carry him back to his room. This whole thing seemed surreal. _How did we get to this point?_ Vlad asked himself, and then he noticed something. It was only by chance that he glanced at the floor or saw it, but there it was, an unassuming circle of white sitting benignly on the plush Persian rug.

A pill.

What was the appropriate response to that? Because he was experiencing the entire gambit of emotions at once. Anger. Betrayal. Fear. Shock. It all swirled and ran together and he felt the urge to crush it in his hand. Instead he grabbed it and phased through the floor, making the way to his lab on sheer instinct. Some part of him was on autopilot because every other part of his mind was spinning. Daniel had always been a good kid. An honest boy. A heroic man. This wasn't him. This couldn't be him. He would never have touched this as Vlad knew him - but the Danny Vlad had knew was killed the night Tucker died, standing isolated and apart in the waiting room, blue eyes dull as if coated over by ice suddenly. So he had begun to sink and Vlad found himself not sure who to be more angry with, himself for not seeing it coming and preventing it or Danny for giving in to the bliss of chemicals, the peace of pills that were easier than the rest of the world. But he was never really around Danny to catch this early and Danny was still trying so hard to keep his normal life in tact, how could Vlad blame either of them?

Really he was angry at Maddie and Jack. Their son was doing drugs. A drug. Whatever. He was clearly struggling with some depression or he wouldn't have considered it, normally Danny was an upstanding citizen, so this had to be a synptom of a greater problem. And how had they missed that problem? How had they missed the signs? The tiredness, the detached outlook, those rings under his eyes, he was so pale, too thin, how, how had they missed this? Maddie had told him Danny was being more of a homebody and his grades were dropping. _You foolish woman, it's far worse than that! He's dying! He's..._ Vlad dropped the tablet onto the surface scanner of his computer and inhaled sharply. _He's dying._ Why hadn't she seen that? She was a very intelligent woman, an incredible mind and a kind soul, how did she miss this? How did she look at her son missing dinner and failing his favorite classes and think it was okay? He had lost his friends, he needed help, in light of circumstances it was all glaringly obvious and-

Jack.

Vlad froze. Jack had a single minded obsesiveness that Maddie shared but she'd never been as intense with it as he had. He was self centered and shallow, hard to talk to, impossibly unsympathetic, a man whose world revolved around his studies and interests, his world, his life. Maddie had been trying to keep him from going off the deep end with new paranormal investigators making so much progress lately. He was trying to keep up with them, outdo them, take them down with his experiments and inventions, the endless sea of useless ghost hunting junk - of course he hadn't seen Danny's downward spiral. He hadn't even come up from the lab to greet Vlad when he stopped by. He was so deeply engrossed in his own ego and his own reputation and the salvation thereof that his son, his only present child, wasn't even a sidenote on the back of his mind. Vlad's eyes glowed red without his permission as he thought of Danny trying to save the town and cope with everything and then come home to nothing and no one, no sympathy, no compassion, not even a fully stocked fridge.

He could barely breathe for fury. Danny wasn't innocent. This was a stupid decision on his part. But it was a desperate one, a lonely one, something he did to give himself the comfort and break he wasn't going to get otherwise from anyone. He understood Danny's mistake. He had dabbled in drinking after his own accident. More than dabbled, really. It had consumed him until fury overtook it and he began formulating his rise to riches. He had fallen to. But he had been older, more able to bounce back, more sure of himself. There had been hope and a future for him. There was nothing for Danny. No friends and no family. Nothing but work and pain.

The gray haired man had a lot to do. Social Services needed to hear about this. Maddie needed to be told in no uncertain terms what madness Jack had wrought upon them all. Jazz needed to be informed - smart, savvy psych. major Jasmine might even know what to do next, how to approach recovery. He needed a doctor to tell him how to manage a detox. He needed a conversation with Danny about why this wasn't the answer. But more than anything he needed to go wake Danny up and hold him close and tell him the real reason he had been brought here. Vlad's ulterior motive had nothing to do with the ghost or human halves of the young man. It was about his heart. About his soul. About the Danny who he admired for his bravery and enjoyed for his snark and wanted to talk to just to see how his mind reacted and his thoughts worked. It wasn't about ghost DNA or Phantom. It was about, truthfully, embarrasssingly...

He'd invited Danny over so that Vlad could have a chance to tell him he loved him.

The plan wasn't very formed or well thought out beyond that. He was going to pick an appropriately serious and quiet moment and tell him flat out, as clearly and hopefully sincerely as possible. That had been the plan. The plan had been shelved that day after school, when Danny had collapsed in his limo looking like Hell. After that the plan was just to somehow revive Danny back to his old self. If Danny hadn't agreed to come, he might've overdosed and there never would've been a chance for anyone to reach out to him ever again. Vlad wasn't one for religion, but he thanked whatever higher power existed that he had this last chance to try to salvage both his relationship with Danny and Danny himself. He wasn't really the best at interpersonal relationships. He didn't know where they went from here. All he knew was that he would not stop until things were okay. He would make everything okay. He had to. No one had done it for him, and he'd found himself in some very dark places, contemplating some very permanent solutions in his youth. He wouldn't let Danny drown like he had. Jack Fenton might be content to ignore those he loved in favor of fame, but Vlad was better than him. He loved Danny. He loved him and he could use that to somehow repair that which had long been falling apart. Vlad had failed his first love, failed to be the person he needed to be. He would never do that again.

He couldn't live with himself if he did.


End file.
